


Come, dog.

by triaux



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bittersweet, Blood, Death, Dreams, Gen, Poetic, Sad, Short, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 14:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8017525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triaux/pseuds/triaux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will wakes from an unpleasant dream of a sad experience he had as a boy. He finds himself thinking of Hannibal for comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come, dog.

_A chill_ _from the_ _breeze._

_Breathe_ _out._  

 _A s_ _moke cloud_ _form_ _s_ _,_ _then_ _dissipate_ _s_ _._  

 _Muffled_ _silence and the crunch of_ _snow._  

 _Bright_ _white_ _freezing over_ _once again._  

_Stop._

_Something_ _i_ _s near._ _An animal?_  

 _A s_ _haggy dog_ _wanders_ _into view, speckled black and white_ _like salt and pepper._  

 _"_ _Here dog!_ _Are you c_ _old?_ _"_  

 _The d_ _og takes another step. Leaves_ _smudge of_ _red behind._  

 _"Oh no, are_ _you_ _b_ _leeding?_ _Come_ _here buddy!"_  

 _Fur is cold._ _F_ _lecks of_ _ice encrusted_ _._  

 _Lift paws up. No….not bleeding._  

 _How strange._  

 _Look up, follow t_ _he_ _t_ _rail._  

 _"_ _Come_ _on,_ _dog._ _"_  

 _Crunching again as boots flatten snow_ _, make deep indentations_ _._  

 _Bloody prints lead behind a bank._  

 _Stop._  

 _Someone in_ _the_ _snow. On_ _the_ _ground_ _. Face down._  

 _D_ _ark_ _clothes, dark skin. Turning pure_ _white to_ _red._  

 _Could they be alive_ _? Breathing?_  

 _Bend to see._  

 _Reach down to check for breath, a pulse._  

 _Find none._  

 _What to do? T_ _oo far away from town..._  

 _Turn to start heading that way when-_  

 _Person lifts their_ _head, moves limbs to edge_ _forward an inch._  

 _How?_ _They are dead! They should be dead!_  

 _Dog wanders over to sniff._  

 _Person_ _raises a bloody hand with effort_ _to pet a soft, co_ _ld_ _ear._  

 _"Good boy.", they whisper._  

 _Then silence again._  

 _Blood and s_ _now._  

 _Quiet as a soul leaves the world._  

 _Trembling._  

 _Dog lays down to_ _lick master._  

 _Heart breaking._  

 _Stand there_ _a while_ _, not knowing what to do._  

 _Eventually, "Come, dog."_  

 _Back to town. �_  

 

 _\-------_  

 

Will wakes from the dream in a cold sweat as usual. His heart is pounding and he gets up to pull his soaked shirt off. He hasn't had this dream in a long time.  

Not since after the incident happened.  

He still remembers that day so vividly- the way the color red had soaked the snow so unnaturally. The frozen branches of the nearby trees, the way the cold had made it almost hurt to breathe.  

How difficult experiencing that death was.  

He had never seen anyone die before.  

He was ten when it happened.  

Will felt kind of guilty for feeling worse for the dog, who lay by his master, nosing against his cheek, willing for him to wake.  

He never did, though. 

So Will had crept up beside the dog and laced his fingers in his frozen fur. He had wept with the dog, the emotional experience all too much for the young boy to handle.  

Then when both were too cold from kneeling in the snow, from freezing tears trailing their cheeks, they got up together and treked back home.  

Home. For the dog now as well. 

Max, Will had called him. He had no collar. 

Will's mother saw them approaching from the kitchen window and was preparing to march out there and scold Will for being out so late, and for trying to bring home yet another pet when she saw his face.  

Red and puffy. And not just from the cold.  

A mother can always tell the difference.  

She put on her coat and went outside to meet him.  

"What happened, sweetheart?", she asked putting a hand on his icy cheek. 

"Something bad, Mom.", he replied softly, wiping his nose with his jacket sleeve.  

He explained the scene and his mother had stayed calm. Nodding and patient as not to scare the boy.  

She gave the dog a quick pat and they all went inside.  

Will's mother called the local sheriff's department as she made him hot chocolate.  

 

Now, over twenty years later, Will reflects on the tragedy. How it changed him. Made him realize things that he never had before.  

He paces over to his window and looks out at the snow on the ground. The room is dark, but he feels safe with his softly snoring huddle of canines curled up by the fireplace.  

He thinks of his mother and Max, misses them both.  

He wonders if this would be something worth sharing with Hannibal at their next meeting.   

He closes his eyes, and recalls that day once again.  

The grey clouded sky, and gently falling flakes. 

This time though, he doesn't see a dead man in the snow, or a heartbroken dog.  

He sees himself as a boy, playing in the now quickly falling snow. Pure and unstained.  

He looks over and is surprised to see Hannibal there, smiling at him and dressed in his usual excessively plaid suit. 

Will smiles back at him, allowing himself to forget, and to replace the old haunting memory with a new peaceful made up one.  

Will doesn't know why he sees Hannibal in the memory, but he accepts his presence nonetheless as it seems to deter unwanted visions.  

Will smiles in the dark room as well and turns to give Winston a pet and to go back to sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This started as an actual dream of mine a while ago and I thought why not turn it into a story. It really seemed to suit Will and is the sort of bittersweet thing I like to create. Feel free to talk to me on [tumblr!](http://triaux.tumblr.com)


End file.
